Days to the office were filled with many a book. Key clicks turned into stories turned into pages turned into… the bus ride from the Brewery didn’t feel like it was two hours long.

The number 10 Rapid Transit bus is the way to go. It is the fastest way to get to the West side from downtown if you’re not headed towards Culver City. That is not to say that the ride is short by any stretch of the imagination. However, between sitting in traffic reading comic books and killing my clutch driving and relaxing a bit before going into the office, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind about this decision.

People in Los Angeles will often go on tirades about the public transportation in Los Angeles. Public transit has been magical for me for the most part. Public transit allowed me the ability to relax and… meet a few interesting people. Little did I know that today would be one of them.

I was typing away as per usual while I sat on the bus waiting for my stop. Nothing about this day seemed special. Nothing about this day seemed to offer anything new.

Until I saw him.

Do you ever see someone out and about and get the urge to talk to them but freeze up? I felt like I was fifteen again.

He popped a single ear bud out of his ear and paid his fare as he thanked the driver with a smile. I just looked up from my computer and dropped my jaw.

Please let him come back here to sit.

It wasn’t meant to be. He set his backpack down and sat down up front.

I scrawled down a few more words until I realized I was having difficulty concentrating. I started folding away at cranes to calm down. He was just sitting there listening to music. I wanted to find out about his world. I wanted to say hello. Why was I being such a chickenshit?

As stop after stop happened I feared that it would be the one where he would disappear. Suddenly as my stop approached, I got brave. I wrote my phone number on a piece of origami paper and folded it in half to give to him.

This was going to be an interesting first introduction. He’d had a meeting with Australian clients so wasn’t able to make the tasting. I had not formally invited him to the meeting of this month’s Whiskey Society but thought it might be a good place to say hello regardless.

I found myself apologizing for the strange introduction. It was his first time meeting someone from online. He was newly divorced and single. Fresh to Los Angeles. Extremely. He had moved up here March 1st.

At the back of my mind I feared impending disaster. I had nearly cancelled this introduction- or postponed at least until the next day- to allow for a certain programmer to have the evening. Maybe that was jinxing it from the beginning. I’ll never know. But worrying about it wouldn’t do me any good either.

The conversation was going well. He was adorable. Much more my speed than the programmer had been. The conversation was fluid and not forced.

I got a call while we were sitting there talking about our exes. Another doomed conversation perhaps. It was my ex calling to apologize- at midnight- that he wouldn’t be able to hang out and wishing me a good time at my tasting.

“You know, if you’d be open to it. I’d love to re-meet you tomorrow on a sober note.”

“That’d work.”

We were having a good time. He went to bring me home.

The conversation continued to pour on. Quip after quip after…

“I know a place that has food that’s open now!”

“Where?”

I texted my friend to get the exact name. I’d been there frequently but couldn’t remember where exactly it was since I hadn’t needed to drive in months.

The night pressed on. It was fantastic. The first one of it’s kind that I’d had since the second goodbye.

“I’m not looking to rush into anything right now. My last ex wanted to marry me. And then, well… things were… All I want to do is live moment to moment and see where it takes me.”

“Me too.”

Tango with words. It begins this moment. But for how many neither of us could be sure.

In the morning after stillness something still was a bit amiss. Why did I catch myself almost not wearing those new boots today as I left the house? It was probably nothing. Or, I’d thought it was nothing.

For a few moments on the bus amongst the chatter in two different languages I found myself fading a bit into the background with thought. So many questions. So many answers. So much… placidity.

I walked past my favorite boutique on the way to work. The clink and clatter of my jingle boots on the marbled colored sidewalk seemed to echo a bit louder as I glanced into the storefront window.

Scene: a bus stop in Silverlake right near Sunset Junction, East Los Angeles

“In Silverlake now. Eta?”

It was silent. I started to walk towards the intended meeting spot before I saw a vintage shop I hadn’t encountered before. Oh how I love this neighborhood. I wish I came here more often.

The boots called to me from outside and down the street. I’d been desiring a pair of black half bucked boots. I didn’t think they’d fit but…

“I’ll just have a peek. It wouldn’t hurt I suppose.”

And when I slid them on they were a bit tight but that didn’t matter. Boots are made to be worn in. And oh what a grand pair these were. I found another pair of camel hair heels in a zebra design before exiting to continue on to the next destination.

And the time passed so fluidly.

Circus of Books was next. A couple of new foreign magazines to assist me in deciding the new hair style.

“I just finished my meeting. Intellegensia closes at 8. With traffic I can’t make it before 7:45 so we should meet somewhere else. Ideas?”

It was already 6:37 then. This client knew I traveled on public transportation. This was supposed to be the happy medium between downtown and the West side. I should have been aggravated but for some reason, I wasn’t. I headed towards a bus going back towards downtown but not before stopping in Secret Headquarters for a few comics.

“Which books do you still need?” I asked my son.

“Mom I told you I need issues 1 and 3 and the movie diary. Did you forget?”

“I wanted to make sure. You know. Because I’m an old lady and all. But Ethan we need to start getting you reading some fun stuff too after you’re done with this. Something with zombies or scary stuff. Zombies are our friends.. just like Jesus this weekend!”

“Mom you’re not supposed to say that!”

“But it’s true. What happens when someone comes back from the dead?”

“They turn into a zombie.”

“That’s right! So that’s why this weekend is zombie Jesus day.”

My client and I agreed to meet at my favorite bookstore downtown. I sat and read a couple of new single issues of a new book and thumbed through my new fashion magazines. I was covered with packages. For being flaked on, this wasn’t a terrible night. I didn’t usually venture out to that area by myself and now I was thinking it might need to be done more often.

The night progressed to more of the same. This client had very little value for my time. I walked around and got lost in the city. The air was crisp and seemingly carried me away. I got to see the Ansel Adams prints I’d been wanting to see since last month. The book store was warm and soothing. I began to hear the beep of my phone about to die. The client was still no where to be heard from. Nonetheless, I was glowing.

I’d just gotten my hair cut and dyed that weekend. I had to run an errand before work as I’d lost my phone at a thrift store while out with my son the weekend prior and was sending back a defective back up phone I’d purchased. Blue houndstooth dress, black pea coat, grey knit scarf, combat boots. It was gorgeous out and I was glad that I had an excuse to walk around the city a bit longer before going to work.

My former roommate Shelly usually walks in the mornings around there. I didn’t expect to run into her, but it was nice.

“Oh my god you cut your hair! You look great! How are you?”

“Yep. Did it this weekend. Doing great.”

“How’s the new place?”

“It’s fantastic. My roommate is a total sweetheart. There’s a ton of space. No offense but it beats being on a couch. Speaking of couches, how’s our favorite couch surfer?”

“I told him he had to pay rent in February so he’s moving. He will be gone in a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” I said with a laugh and trying to hold back the “I-totally-saw-that-one-coming.”

“I heard he met someone.”

“Yeah that’s about all I know. I was gone for the weekend again. I don’t know what he’s doing. I think he’s going to France though.”

“Hmm. Good for him. I wonder how he’s pulling that one off. Ah well.”

We chit chatted a bit more.

“You sound really good right now.”

“Oh I am. And sincerely thank you for all the help. You were right about everything. [The suited gent] was really just a boy. I’m a grown woman, I deserve a man. Eventually I will find one, but regardless, I’m not complaining about a damn thing. Life is pretty awesome.”

We parted ways with hugs and smiles. I am forever thankful for the entrances and exits in my life.

Without saying goodbye to things… without letting go… you’re never able to attain the things you deserve.

I’m glad that I said goodbye to you. It was one of the best things I ever did.

Scene: a kitchen in a spooky historical loft, just outside of downtown Los Angeles

“Please don’t kill me.” I sent to him along with a picture of my confirmed flight.

He made no promises.

“What the hell am I thinking? I just met him a week ago.” I said to my friend who had brought me out to happy hour to catch up on the post holiday news.

“Have fun. It’s an adventure.”

And it was going to be. I was nervous and excited and nervous and excited and…

I felt the rush inside of me as I clicked confirm for the flight. He’d asked me the day after I met him… before we parted ways on our buses after that amazing first date.

I had no clue what to expect except to have zero expectations. I already adored this man. Would the trip solidify that even more? Or would I fuck things up?

I was nervous and excited. I knew before I even opened the browser to check on flights that I would get people telling me I was crazy to even consider it let alone do it. But great rewards come from great risks. Like that first message. Like the ones that followed. Like every day you wake up and get out of bed.

I’d made the decision to myself that this was the year I stopped holding myself back. I’ve had moments where I’ve stepped away from believing that. I’m working on making them less common. And every day I’ve felt a little bit stronger. Every day I’ve felt amazing.

What would happen in Vegas, I didn’t know.

“Have fun. It’s an adventure.”

Every damn day is an adventure. Don’t hold yourself back from experiencing every last bit of it.

Scene: a bedroom in disarray in front of a laptop in Culver City, Los Angeles adjacent

Today was going to be legendary. Perhaps almost as legendary as our introduction in the first place. How’s the fairy tale start? Oh yes… Once upon a time…

There used to be a site years ago called I’m in Like With You. It still exists (under a different all around name), but not in the way that it did all those years ago. The site, as it would turn out, would also be life changing. Many relationships and connections of all sorts- romantic, professional, friendship, etcetera were gained from this site. I am forever thankful that I was able to be a part of it then. I honestly believe I may be a far different person had I not encountered it.

And so it goes.

He and I met through a game on there. You see, the site used to be set up to incentivize building relationships, and gave a currency to these relationships. It is, in my mind, how social capital later came about. But that’s just an opinion, and, of course, everyone has one.

I felt the anxiety building as the time before the flight got closer and closer. I talked to my friend Rabbit- a friend of mine for years as well- who I knew would be awake at that god awful hour.

“What this guy is thinking i don’t know. I think you should dress nice, be your usual pretty self and hop on the plane. Who could resist you, and who would even want to try? Real life dream girls like you don’t happen every day.”

“Aww.”

“It’s true miss.”

“Real life dream boys like him don’t happen every day either.”

What’s going to happen I don’t know. Things like this take steps. Here goes a leap of faith as I get ready to board that plane not knowing if…

The No Pants Train Ride was coming up and the suited gent had not given me back my dad’s shirt. You can kind of gather some things about the details here. A night of passion in me wearing one of my very corporate dad’s old hand me downs that never made it to Goodwill and it… just sort of stayed in his room.

“Get that back to me please. I wouldn’t care if it wasn’t my dad’s in the first place.”

“I promise I will.”

Weeks passed. Conversations had. The shirt never made a cameo.

The time had come.

“Hey I really need to get that. It’s been weeks. You said you were going to get it cleaned and get it to me even when I was still there. I think you’ve had more than enough time.”

“I can do that. When did you want to come by?”

“Actually I want you to bring it to my work. It’s not far and I know you’re not working anyway..”

“Sure I can do that. I can get it to you today.”

“When?”

“I’ll leave in about five minutes. What are your cross streets again? Grand and [redacted]?”

“No. Grand and [redacted].”

It then got busy here. I was working on a project and manually generating invoices. It was something I hadn’t had to do here previously.

“Sorry. I’m going to need a minute. It got busy at work.”

“Well I can come by after I have lunch with my dad if that works too.”

I don’t trust him not to flake. He’s a habitual flaker. And again, I don’t trust him. He’s had plenty of time. I wanted to wear that shirt on Sunday. I needed to get it washed still. It would take all of five minutes to get things done.

I told my boss.

“I need a few minutes. I have someone dropping something off. I can come right back. Is that ok?”

“No problem.”

I went downstairs to the lobby and waited. I don’t like this at all. I was nervous that he would try and pull some cute move on me as if things hadn’t happened, and, had he been genuine it might have been different. I just didn’t need the gloss over it. I had made my decision.

You could cut the silence like a thick fog. He walked upstairs to his room. I picked up my keys and grabbed my purse. I don’t know why he holds back so much. I don’t know why I do either. But he’s right. I’m right. And maybe that’s why I was attracted to him in the first place.

From one magician to another- it’s difficult living in both worlds magical and real sometimes.

Once a year there’s a fantastic excuse to don your best underwear out in public. In most major cities, the tradition is honored with the flashmob entitled: The No Pants Metro Ride. It is an event coordinated by the groups Improv Everywhere and the local chapter GuerrilLA. Various acts of shenanigans have transpired due to these amazing groups. I am happy to be a part of them.

In Los Angeles, this particular flashmob has been going on for four years. In other cities, it has been going on much longer. I have been a participant for 3 years.

In other words, it’s a fun excuse to get some new cute underwear and meet some eccentric new friends.

Getting dressed was an adventure. The idea is to be discreet as possible. I was a downtown girl now. I wanted to look the part.

Getting ready earlier I picked and plotted my attire with careful measure: a pinstripped collared dress shirt, black cincher at the waist, long flowing black silk gloves, dark grey corporate sensible knee length skirt, high heeled yellow khaki oxford shoes, … open cut fishnet stockings with bows, black laced silk underwear. I grabbed a black bonnet and my shades. It was a mission and I was to be undercover.

I arrived early to my location to a vacant station. The other agents were not there yet. I parked myself upstairs next to a pillar and pulled off a long glove to check in with Ooh-Kla to ensure that I was at the correct position.